by Dannika Dark
“Well, at least I got out of the house,” Blue said with amusement. “Do you think Cosmo had anything to do with it?”
“No. He’s telling the truth. But we did learn one valuable thing.”
“What’s that?”
“He mentioned undocumented boxes.”
“I bet there’s an insider working for the higher authority, probably just someone who works the phones and makes a little cash on the side by selling information. Those idiots don’t realize they could end up implicating themselves at a crime scene by leaving behind their scent. I bet half the time they don’t even find anything worth stealing.”
Niko chuckled. “It would serve them right.”
Blue jingled her car keys. “So what do you think of Raven? I’ll be honest—I’m still on the fence. I like her, but I’m not sure if she’s going to fit in.”
Though his fingers were cold, Niko kept his hands free in case he stumbled over something. “Is it because she’s half Vampire? It’s no secret how you feel about them.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Which meant yes. Niko knew his partner enough to know her distrust of Vampires.
“Give her a chance,” he said. “She has a good heart, even if it needs to be dusted off a little.”
Blue paused and turned to face him. He could hear the shift in the proximity and direction of her voice. “I’m not the only one who feels this way. No one’s brought up the tattoo.”
Niko’s head tipped to the side. “You have to earn that mark.”
Each member of Keystone had the same tattoo—hidden so Viktor wouldn’t find out. He wouldn’t approve of such foolishness, but it was how the team created a bond. They had them sealed with liquid fire—a substance in their world that made tattoos, scars, and burns permanent. Most Breeds had rejuvenating abilities, and ink from tattoos would be absorbed by their body and vanish in a short time. Liquid fire prevented that, making their tattoos something they would carry for the rest of their lives—a symbol that connected them. They usually kept the mark a secret until the new person showed exemplary behavior, and while Raven had shown that with taking down Darius and even locating Christian in the cemetery, she hadn’t been an official member of Keystone at the time those events occurred.
Niko suddenly gripped the pommel of the katana he wore beneath his coat.
“What’s wrong?” Blue asked.
It was more than a Mage flaring; Niko recognized the unique qualities of the energy that skated across his skin.
“Go to the car,” he ordered Blue.
“Do you know them?”
He turned his head toward her. “Do as I say. This is personal.”
She touched his arm. “Okay, but if you need me, I’ve got my axe under the seat.”
As her footsteps faded, another set approached.
“Nikodemos. Have you been avoiding me?”
“Cyrus,” he said in greeting, never removing his grip from his sword.
“Worry not. I have no desire to fight you, boy. I didn’t spend the past five centuries combing the ends of the earth for you just to cut off your head. What kind of friend would I be?”
Niko widened his stance, noticing every inflection in Cyrus’s tone and how his energy fluctuated. He was speaking the truth; Cyrus had no intention of killing him. At least not now.
“What do you want, Cyrus?”
“When I saw that Native woman holding your arm, I thought she was yours. Then I remembered how painfully awkward you always were around strangers—especially women. Afraid they’d laugh at your weakness, as they often did. Now I realize she’s just your Seeing Eye dog.”
Niko bristled. Cyrus was masterful with insults. There was a time long ago when Niko relied on him, but time changes men and reveals their true character.
Cyrus stepped forward. “I’ve been watching you these past weeks. I see you’re living comfortably. By the looks of that estate, you must have access to a fortune.”
“You know money never meant anything to me.”
Cyrus belted out a laugh. “Yes, and that’s why you were always a fool. But maybe you’ve finally grown into a man.” He quieted a moment, as if he were contemplating. “Come back to us. It’ll be just like old times.”
Niko’s brows arched.
“Well, maybe not exactly like old times. I might have valuable information about a certain string of murders.” Cyrus’s shoe shuffled against the concrete.
Niko pulled his sword out just an inch, ready to strike. “Were you behind them?”
“You know that’s not my style. But maybe for the right price, I can give you a name. The truth might surprise you. Think of all those innocent lives you could save.”
Niko knew what the price would be, and it was something he’d never relinquish to a man like Cyrus. But it didn’t leave him with a clean conscience knowing his decision could mean more lives lost. That was assuming Cyrus had information. “You know nothing.”
“You insult me,” Cyrus said. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, and you know this to be true. Quit being so obstinate. After five centuries, we are changed men, are we not? Obviously someone took pity on a blind man and taught you how to handle a sword. Very admirable, Nikodemos. But sooner or later, someone is going to catch you alone. Your female companion is sitting in her car, but we would never leave your side. You need someone who will always have your back. I’m not asking you for what’s rightfully mine—what you absconded with all those years ago. I want you back. I can give you a position as my second. You’ll get respect and more money than they probably pay you.”
“Stolen money.”
“Don’t act as if you weren’t once a thief. You still are.”
Niko felt the wind at his back. “If you were a noble man, you would give me information on the murders. But I think you’re still the same cowardly liar as you always were.”
“If you don’t want to accept my generous offer, then at least return what’s mine. You still have a debt to pay for my saving your life, feeding you, and putting clothes on your back. I’ll give you a fair exchange of information, and we’ll go our separate ways. What value could a book have to a blind man?”
“It’s not what it means to me—it’s what it means to you. Centuries have passed, old friend. I have crossed many seas and lost many possessions to the currents of time. You have no proof that I still have this book in my keeping. Take heed of my warning and stay away.”
Cyrus’s energy flared a bright shade of what Niko described in his mind as orange. He inched forward, but Niko held his ground, still gripping his sword. “Someday I’m going to find out what you hold most precious, and I’m going to steal it away. You’ll come to me on your knees, but by then, I may not want to strike a bargain. You will not have suffered enough—not until your arms and soul ache for this precious thing. If you change your mind, Nikodemos, then ask around for me.”
Niko drew back from the bright flare that flashed as Cyrus’s footsteps faded and he approached his group of men, whose energy Niko could feel from across the parking lot.
He finally released his sword and followed Blue’s fading trail to the car. With luck, something would break this case wide open. But if not, Niko would be faced with striking a bargain with Cyrus in order to save lives, and the price would be high. There were consequences either way.
Immortals gathered enemies through the centuries like a floor collects dust. Everyone had shadows—one reason why Blue didn’t question him when he returned to the vehicle.
After all, she was a woman who had plenty of her own.
Chapter 11
“Raven, wake up.”
My hand flew out and smacked someone in the face.
The next thing I knew, I was gasping for air as water splashed up my nose and into my mouth. I sat up on the sofa in the gathering room, glaring at Christian.
He gave me a smug look and set an empty glass on an end table. “You sleep like the dead. We’re having a meeting.”
/> I put my feet on the floor. A warm fire glowed in the large hearth against the far wall. I loved the gathering room. It had character, with its tremendously high ceilings and stained glass windows. The window on the left was massive and depicted a forest scene with wolves and people, and on the opposite wall, a grandiose bookcase climbed to the ceiling. A person would need a ladder to reach the top.
I dried my face, surprised that I’d dozed off so easily. Something about the hypnotic crackling of a fireplace had a narcotic effect. When I’d lived on the streets, sleeping made me vulnerable, so I only did it when necessary. Now that I had walls to keep me safe, I could indulge in a little shut-eye since I wasn’t in constant survival mode.
Christian took a seat in a chair to my left. He crossed his legs, and we watched everyone trickle into the room. Shepherd weaved between us and stood by the wall behind me where one of the archways joined. He wasn’t smoking, but the smell of cigarettes wafted from his clothes. Blue and Niko sandwiched me on the sofa, and Wyatt plopped down in a chair to the right, one leg casually draped over the armrest.
When Viktor and Gem strode in and stood side by side, everyone quieted. Gem was a girl who liked wearing shorts, skirts, and even rompers—anything to give the illusion of height. But with the cold chill that hung in the air, she’d put on purple leggings, black shorts, and a cropped sweater. Her chunky black boots gave her a boost, and when her eyes met with mine, I pointed at her untied shoelace. She bent down and looped a big bow as Viktor began.
He squared his shoulders. “I gathered you here for an update. Claude is away, so I’ll fill him in later. We have a promising lead in the case.”
Niko released a heavy breath, and it made me turn to look at him. His face seemed flushed.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
He nodded. “I’m fine. Just… relieved.”
Viktor glanced down at Gem, and she quickly shot up. “Gem has worked tirelessly to uncover the identity of the last victim. I’ll let her provide details.”
Gem’s expressive eyes sparkled, catching every facet of light in the room. The violet color stood out because of her mascara and eyeliner. “Shepherd noticed a tattoo on the woman, and it was written in a distinct language that very few people know how to speak. It’s a Shifter tribe, but I had trouble remembering which one. I did some research, and behold, I found what I was looking for,” she said, anchoring her hands on her hips. Gem cleared her throat as if tamping down her excitement. “The tribe was a mixed group of animals living together in the backwoods of Washington, isolating themselves from the rest of the world. They were natives, and because they were outcasts from different tribes, their language evolved into a unique blend.”
Niko clapped his hand against his leg in applause. “Well done, Gem.”
She rocked on her heels. “I can’t take all the credit. Wyatt researched every Breed tattoo artist in Washington State. I thought that would be a good place to start looking. The tribe disbanded a long time ago, but indigenous people don’t like to stray far from home.”
Wyatt tapped his foot to an invisible beat. “I still ran a check on all the Breed artists registered in the continental United States, but only one name matched up with the surnames Gem had in her book, and he just so happens to live in Washington State.”
Gem fidgeted with her crystal pendant as she spoke. “Back when the tribe was discovered, they documented all the surnames before they were disbanded. Since then, the women may have married outside the tribe and started a family with a new name, but I had a feeling we weren’t dealing with one of the younger generations. Language gets lost when people become transient and move away from their community. The children pick up the common language around them and often reject their native tongue. If they do know how to speak it, they don’t always know how to write it. Shifters live a long time, and my gut told me the person who inked the tattoo on that woman was an original member of the tribe.”
“Well, aren’t you the little sleuth?” Christian said.
She beamed with pride. “Our victim wasn’t Native American, so unless she was dating a member of that tribe—which is still possible—the design was probably suggested by the tattoo artist.”
“Do you think she’s Breed?” I asked.
Gem shook her head. “We still don’t have absolute proof. Some of the Breed shops are open to everyone.”
Blue leaned forward, elbows propped on her knees. “What did the tattoo mean?”
Gem’s gaze drifted to the ceiling. “Well, it’s a proverb that doesn’t make sense in direct translation. The stick is worth breaking.”
Blue jerked her head back. “That’s obscure.”
“For sure,” Gem agreed. “Alas, I only have a brief history on the tribe; I don’t know enough about their culture or proverbs to be able to interpret the meaning.”
Viktor clasped his hands before him. “This is a strong lead. I want to question the artist. Raven, Christian… this is your first assignment. You will fly out to Washington and speak with the artist. Do whatever you have to,” he said, giving Christian a discreet look.
“Can we get a photocopy of the tattoo?” I asked. “I’ll look through their books and see if it’s something they offer to everyone. If not, then he shouldn’t have any trouble remembering something like that.”
Christian shook his head. “Who gets a tattoo in a language they don’t understand?”
I frowned at my chipped nail polish. “Countless humans who think Chinese writing is pretty?”
He uncrossed his legs. “Aye, but how do they know they’re not really getting a recipe for eggrolls printed on their arse?”
“Everyone needs a good recipe,” I said with a smile.
Viktor looked between us. “Then it’s settled. And both of you better come back alive. I know how you bicker like cats and dogs, but remember you are professionals. This will be your first assignment alone, so no killing each other.”
Wyatt raised his finger. “Maybe I should go in case one of them winds up buried in a cemetery.”
I chortled and glanced at Christian. “Don’t worry. I don’t stake my men on the first date.”
He rose to his feet. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“Most people hate airplane food,” Christian remarked.
I shoved a cracker into my mouth as the flight attendant collected my empty tray. “Most people hate romance movies where someone dies in the end, but they still watch them.” I wiped my hands on my jeans. “Why do you get the window seat? I’m the one who’s never flown before.”
He tapped his knuckle on the closed shade. “Aye. And if you were sitting here, I’d have that infernal light blasting me in the eyes the entire flight.”
Christian still had on his dark sunglasses. Older Vampires learned to tolerate bright light, but many of them still wore shades in the daytime. Their eyes were black because the pupils were permanently dilated, concealing the irises completely.
Viktor had purchased plane tickets for us to leave the day after our meeting, and I’d been anxious since it was my first flight. Once the plane took off and I was still in one piece, I decided to sit back and enjoy the experience. Everything about it was foreign and exciting—especially the idea of traveling above the clouds.
“We can watch TV,” I said, gesturing toward the screens on the seats in front of us.
“If you turn that blasted thing on, I’ll put you in cargo.”
I dusted a few crumbs off my lap. “You older generations really have a thing against technology. That’s what’s going to hold you back as the years roll by.”
He shifted in his seat. “And that’s what’s wrong with the younger generation. You’ve lost the ability to sit still and have a conversation. You need a talking box to keep you entertained, or one of those fancy music players.”
“You carry a phone,” I pointed out.
“Do you see me on it every second, sending Wyatt pictures of your revolting lunch? An intelligent mind doesn�
�t need external stimulation.”
“I’ll remember that the next time I walk in on you having sex with a random person.”
He widened his legs and laced his fingers together. “I’m not sure why that vexes you so, but you seem to bring it up every chance you get. What I do with women is natural, and believe me, I’m quite good at what I do.”
“Shouldn’t you at least get their names first?”
Christian lifted his shades over his head and turned to face me, his black eyes unnerving. “I make no pretenses. I don’t play games or mislead anyone about what I want.”
I lowered my eyes to his mouth, noticing how he kept his beard groomed at a short length but still let whiskers grow down his neck. “And what do you want?”
His tongue swept across his bottom lip, and he leaned back, putting his shades back on. “You’re going to live a long time. And unless you plan on joining a nunnery, you should realize that casual sex will save you from a lifetime of misery. Love is a fecking lie, and the sooner you let go of all those romantic notions, the better off you’ll be. There’s no shame in satisfying your needs with no strings attached.”
“Sorry, but I can’t take advice from a neophiliac. No one is saying you have to have a relationship with the women you sleep with, but at least get to know them a little.”
“For what reason?”
Christian was getting worked up, and when his voice rose an octave, I couldn’t help myself. “It kind of suggests a lack of control.”
He stroked his short beard. “I’m a sexual man. I would wager that the root of your concern is that you are not.”
“You’re right, Christian. I’m not a sexual man. I bet you couldn’t go one week without sex.”
“It’s a good thing we’re not going to a casino,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen a woman with such an addiction to silly bets.”
I leaned back. “You’re only saying that because you know you’d lose.”
Christian’s amorous behavior was no secret. He loved flirting, and at least one night a week, he came home smelling of sex and like he’d been doused with perfume. I wasn’t sure if he’d always been that way or if he just had too much free time on his hands. What else was a man going to do with his time if not watch television? Maybe I just wanted to make a point that some people created addictions in their life to hide what was wrong. My father once said that he didn’t think alcohol was a sin. It had never cost him his job, he felt good when he was drinking, and it made some of the painful shit he had to deal with sufferable. The only sin was loving the addiction more than himself.
